For Better or for Wurst
by CindyDee
Summary: Philip and Jamie learn that you shouldn't always judge a book by its cover. Set in season 3.


**A/N This story is inspired by the Valentine's Facebook challenge to start a story with the phrase "This/That is/was your/his/her idea of a Valentine's Day gift?", limit it to two characters, and have it under 5000 words. As you can see, I follow directions about as well as Amanda does when Lee says "Stay in the car!", but I guess hitting one out of three challenge requirements ain't too bad.**

**I should put the usual disclaimer - I don't own the characters, blah, blah, blah, I'm not going to make any money off of this, blah, blah blah and no copyright infringement intended. I just think that even after 35 years, there are still stories that need to be told. **

**Thanks to Lanie for her tolerance of being bombarded by random timeline and trivial detail questions about the show and Clagjanet for her suggestions, support, and willingness to kick me in the butt when I needed it. The story became so much better than it was. I take full responsibility for any errors that might have crept in.**

**Enjoy!**

Amanda's vision of a quick afternoon nap was dashed by the howls of her sons' laughter and sounds of gagging coming up the stairs.

"This one is worse!"

"No WAY!" There was a long beat of silence and Amanda couldn't resist lifting her head from the pillow to try and hear what came next, wincing when it was broken by a war whoop from Phillip.

"Oh, you're right! That is WAY worse! Bleech!"

"Barf!"

"Vomitous!"

"Vomitous is not a real word!"

"Well it should be! Look at this!"

"It looks just like when the Henderson's cat threw up after it ate our pepperoni pizza!"

"Wait, Jamie, we have to do this one! "

"You're right! This one is soooooo bad!"

They both made loud retching sounds

As the volume of the boys' shrieks increased, Amanda sighed - it looked like her nap was history.

"Where's the Worch-est-?" Jamie stopped and started again, slowly sounding out every syllable. "Worst-cest-ta-shire sauce? Mom's gotta have some some somewhere"

"That stuff is SO GROSS!"

"I know! But we need it!"

The sounds of the fridge door slamming and drawers being roughly opened and closed gave a new sense of urgency to Amanda.

"Shut-up, Wormbrain! Mom's gonna hear!" The irony of this last instruction being bellowed at full volume was not lost on Amanda as she hurried down the staircase and rounded the corner to her kitchen.

"Fellas, what is going on here? What in the heck are you doing?"

They looked at her like they were caught with their hands in the cookie jar, which from the looks of it was the only thing they _hadn't_ emptied out onto the counter.

Jamie finally replied, "Nothing, Momma, we were only looking at a cookbook."

"Just looking at a cookbook? You were both awfully loud and look awfully guilty for just looking at a cookbook. Let me see."

Philip sheepishly handed her the worn hardcover book and Amanda immediately regretted it as her stomach roiled.

On the cover was a photograph of a gelatinous fish filled with olives which gave the impression of being riddled with parasites or tumors. It looked like something that you would expect to find swimming around the Three Mile Island nuclear disaster site. The sculpture was completed with a thin carrot strip for a mouth and two pimento-filled olives for eyes. Time had fortunately, (or unfortunately, Amanda couldn't decide) faded the colors from what was once a vivid blood-red to a dulled maroon tinged with a sickly greenish grey hue.

She quickly covered her mouth with her hand and shuddered involuntarily as she recalled the times spent with her great-aunts, whose apartments always smelled of a mix of mothballs and the overpowering scented flower bathroom soaps one was not allowed to use. Even worse than that though, had been all the horrible Jell-o aspic salads she was forced to eat as a child. Jell-o made with tomato juice instead of water that had chunks of celery and little cocktail shrimp floating inside. Lemon Jell-o with tuna and cabbage. Sometimes, the tomato or lemon flavors had been replaced by lime. And mayonnaise. Everything smothered in mayonnaise. She shuddered again. Visiting her great-aunts had been a blight on an otherwise happy childhood.

She tamped down her gag reflex. "Boys, where ever did you find this?"

Jamie replied "It was wedged behind the bookcase."

They moved to the family room with Jamie and Philip flopping down on the couch and Amanda squeezed in between them.

Philip started, "Mom, did people actually eat that stuff? Gross!"

"Yes, sweet heart, I'm afraid they actually did."

"Oh man, I would rather eat Brussels sprouts!" This was the worst insult Philip could hurl.

"Did it taste as bad as it looked?" Jamie wanted to know.

Amanda laughed and shook her head. "Oh no, it was way worse!" She tickled them.

"Mom!" Philip and Jamie protested through their giggles.

"I know, I know, you two are way too old for tickling." She sighed and put her arms around them for a quick squeeze. "Now, I am curious, which one of these fantastic recipes were you going to make?"

Jamie flipped through the pages. "This pineapple liver sausage one." He showed the picture to Amanda.

Her eyes went wide and she began to laugh. "Wow, that is so…shiny!" She squinted at the picture. "Is that covered with cheese slices?"

Philip grabbed the book from Jamie's hands and started reading the recipe.

"Let me check. Mix one pound of liver sausage. YUCK! With one tablespoon lemon juice, and one teaspoon Worts…Worch… Mom, how do you say this?" He pointed out the word to Amanda.

"Wuss-ta-shure"

"What? That doesn't make sense."

"It is not supposed to. It's English. Trust me Sweetheart."

Phillip continued. "One teaspoon of that wussta whatever sauce and a quarter cup of mayonnaise. Shape around a jelly jar-"

"I wonder if you could still have grape jelly in it, or does it need to be empty?" Jamie interrupted.

Philip ignored him and continued.

"For the frosting… Oh gross, Mom! It's not cheese slices, it's frosting!"

Jamie made a show of dry heaving.

"For the frosting" Philip started again, "Mix unflavored gelatin and water with one cup of mayonnaise. Add several drops of yellow food coloring or a tablespoon of mustard to get the pineapple color. This is so GROSS!"

Amanda laughed again, and ruffled his hair. "You will get no argument from me, Sweetheart!"

"Frost pineapple and stud with sliced stuffed olives. Top with real pineapple top."

"What did they do with the rest of the pineapple?" Jamie wanted to know.

"My guess," Amanda answered, "is they probably threw it out."

"That is so stupid!"

"Better a real pineapple top than festooned with sausages like some of the other recipes!" Philip declared. They all burst into laughter again.

The commotion brought Dotty into the room "What is causing all the hysterics?" She gasped and clasped her hands together, looking thrilled. "Oh, you found it! I thought it was gone forever!" She pulled it out of Phillip's hands and gazed down at it lovingly. "This is my _favorite_ cookbook."

Amanda tried not to laugh harder at the identical looks of horror on the boys' faces as they started whispering furiously to each other.

"I'm going to eat dinner at Andy Haskill's from now on." Philip whispered.

"Andy Haskill? He's so weird."

"Yeah, but whatever they are serving has got to be better than what we are going to be getting now Grandma has her favorite cookbook back. Did you see the recipe with prunes in Jell-o? It looked like there were dead mice in there. Or cat poop."

"You have to take me with you, Philip!"

"No way! Get your own friends!"

Amanda figured it was time to put a stop to this as the whispers were becoming more heated. "Fellas…." with just a hint of warning in her voice.

They both looked up.

"Um Grandma?" Jamie timidly asked. "Why did people think it was a good idea to put canned meat in Jell-o in the olden days? And why did they put mayonnaise on everything?"

"Olden days?" Dotty laughed and rubbed her heart with mock hurt. "Olden days. Ouch. It wasn't _that_ long ago. But, be that as it may, there were many amazing things about America in the fifties and sixties: the civil rights movement, wonderful music and movies and the moon landing, but Fine American Cuisine was not one of them. And I am not sure why everything was mixed with Jell-o and mayonnaise, but we sure did have shiny hair and strong, healthy nails back then."

She and Amanda shared an amused look at the boys' confused expressions.

"So, Grandma… Are you… ummm… planning to cook us anything from this book?" Philip had obviously decided he needed to know how quickly he needed to make other supper plans.

"Oh Heaven's no! I'd never eat any of this!"

The boys looked relieved.

"Well then, why is this your favorite cookbook, Grandma, if you don't like the recipes?" Jamie asked.

Amanda could tell Dotty was getting into her story telling mode and smiled in anticipation.

Dotty sighed dramatically as she sank into the armchair opposite them. "I remember the exact date I got this cookbook - February 14th, 1969." She smiled dreamily, running her hand over the cover. "Your grandfather gave it to me, looking mighty pleased with himself."

It took Amanda a moment to process what Dotty had said.

"THAT was Daddy's idea of a Valentine's Day gift?"

The boys started howling again, "Best Valentine's gift ever!"

Jamie turned to Philip. "You should give that to Linda for Valentine's Day! I'd bet she'd puke rather than getting all kissy face with you." He started making smooching and gagging noises. Philip reached across Amanda and tried to shove his younger brother off the couch.

Amanda gave them a sharp look and then started laughing at the ridiculousness of her father giving her mother a cookbook – especially this one - on what was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year. "I would have been so mad if Joe got me a cookbook for Valentine's Day! A cookbook is way worse than a pair of bookends." She turned to her sons. "Fellas, promise me you will never get your wife or girlfriend a cookbook for Valentine's Day."

"Not even if she asks for one?" Jamie always needed to know if there were any exceptions to a rule.

"No, not even if she asks. You can buy her the cook book before or after, but not on Valentine's Day. Well maybe if she asks, but you better also get her something else. Something else really special." Amanda smiled at her sons, then looked back at Dotty. "Now Mother, why on earth did Daddy think this was a good idea?"

The boys settled back down on the sofa. They all waited patiently for Dotty to continue.

She looked wistful as she reminisced. "Well, you see, Amanda, you had moved out to start college the previous August and I was looking forward to spending some real quality time with your father." She hastened to add, "Not that you ever got in the way, and I was sad my baby was all grown up, but I was also excited to start this new phase of our lives together." She leaned over to touch Amanda's hand.

"But then your father started working a lot of double shifts and I was lonely, I hardly ever saw him and the house was so quiet with you gone. So, finally I had enough and come Valentine's Day, I was going to make it a night he never forgot. I was going to remind him that we were still two vibrant adults with needs and who still had many passionate years ahead of us."

Amanda started to look uncomfortable as the boys sat in rapt attention.

Dotty continued, "I planned this for weeks and even asked the old battlea- I mean, your Grandma West for your dad's favorite dishes, and put up with her barbs that it was nice after all these years I was finally learning to cook properly. But nothing was going to get in the way of my mission to make that night perfect. Luckily for me, that year Valentine's Day fell on a Friday and I made sure that Carl didn't book a shift for the whole weekend.

I had everything planned to the minute as soon as your father left for work. The linens were ironed, the silverware polished, fresh flowers in the vase he gave me when you were born - and believe me Amanda, flowers were not easy to get in February - and the table was set so beautifully it could have been featured in a magazine. I booked weeks in advance to make sure I could get an appointment to get my hair and nails done since it was Valentine's Day and then I managed to cook up a five course romantic meal including your grandma's special recipe for Devil's Food Cake that your father always raved about."

"Way to go Grandma!" enthused Phillip.

"Did Daddy like it?" Amanda asked.

"Eventually," said Dotty with a sigh. "I'd put on a sexy blue dress, dabbed perfume in strategic places, lit the candles, opened the wine, put the music on and had the food warming in the oven… Everything was simply perfect! I was going to knock his socks off!"

"Not just his socks, I bet" muttered Amanda under her breath.

Dotty beamed at her, then turned her attention back to the boys. "Well, your grandfather finally waltzed in - an hour and 15 minutes late! I was beside myself worrying that the Beef Wellington was going to be as dry as shoe leather, so I was trying to get him to sit down and start eating before dinner was ruined and he was insisting that I open his gift first. I was ready to kill him! I was watching my perfect evening unravel right in front of my eyes and all he could think about was me opening my gift!"

Dotty threw her hands up dramatically and heaved a theatrical sigh.

"And you should have seen it! It wasn't even wrapped, it was in a brown paper bag! I went through all this trouble to make the evening special and it looked like I didn't even get a card and got something last minute he couldn't even bother to wrap. In fact, I had just started to wonder if he'd simply picked up something at the gas station on his way home! And then, just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I pulled out this cookbook!" She held up the offending volume with a grimace. " 'Flavors of America: One Hundred Recipes Guaranteed to Take your Cooking from Bland to Fabulous!' Can you imagine?"

"Oh boy, I bet that went over well." Amanda said.

"Oh I was so mad. Furious. You know, I actually saw red! I thought that was just a saying, 'I was so mad I saw red' but, a rosy haze clouded my vision." Dotty was becoming more animated as she relived the moment. "I came this close" she held her index finger and thumb close to together "to taking his precious cookbook and shoving it-"

She looked at Jamie and Philip who were wide eyed and leaning forward on the sofa.

"Shoving it somewhere extremely unpleasant."

"I'm sure you were, Mother," Amanda was struggling to hold in a belly laugh.

"I was ready to throw it at him. 'Dorothy', he said, laughing, Can you believe he was actually _laughing_ at me? 'See if you can guess which one is my favorite recipe.' I was so angry and hurt, it was all I could do not to burst into tears or strangle him. So I violently flipped through the pages, all the while trying to decide if I was going to pack a suitcase, call a cab and go to my parents' or if I was going to pack _his_ suitcase and tell him to go and stay with his precious mother. Over 20 years of marriage and I thought this was the end. Over a stupid cookbook!"

She sat back in the chair and looked at them all. After a pregnant pause, Amanda decided to give in.

"Well, it's obvious you eventually forgave Daddy, so what changed your mind?" Amanda didn't mind humoring her mother and besides, she was dying to know.

"Because tucked in between pages 38 and 39 of the book, between the recipes for the spam, pineapple and maraschino cherry shish kabobs and that nightmarish liver sausage pineapple with pu pu sauce appetizer were two first-class plane tickets to Hawaii! And that is the reason why your father had been working such long hours for months, and that is why he was late that day - he was at the travel agency picking up the tickets."

She sat back and smiled. "And _that_ is why, my precious family, this is my favorite cookbook."

Amanda smiled. "I can't believe I never heard that story before."

Dotty's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Well, I am allowed to have my secrets too, dear daughter."

Philip spoke up, "Grandma, can we try some of these recipes?"

She closed the book and tucked it under her arm as she left the room "Not on your life!"

Fini

**A/N – The cookbook isn't real, but unfortunately the recipes are. It really was a dark time for American Cuisine.**


End file.
